


you'll do anything, for me

by takesguts



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Humor, M/M, MILD pregnancy kink, Not mpreg tho, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Werewolves, guys i really dont know, idk - Freeform, its funny, just silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9534068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takesguts/pseuds/takesguts
Summary: It's not a fetish, Mickey swears - but Ian Gallagher is a werewolf and, well. Maybe he's a bit of a size queen. Whatever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> IDK, I'm drunk. Again. Felt like workin on my sex stuff. SRRY ITS WEIRD. I'M WEIRD.

There are groups for people like Mickey.

 

 

 

Advertised as support groups, but Mickey knows for fucking sure they're more of a...corrective type of therapy. Not quite the corrective therapy his own father would disspell if he knew his youngest (smartest) son was not only a huge fucking queer but a queer that sleeps with people of magical descent. More corrective then Mickey is willing to partake in, doesn't need some paid volunteer to tell him jack shit about himself.

 

 

  
As for his own opinion, however, Mickey doesn't consider himself a magic fetishist, but more of a size queen. Whatever. It's common knowledge werewolves have big dicks. Bigger then an average person's, anyway, even in their own human form. It swells so much, so goddamn thick and hard.

 

 

  
Ian Gallagher, werewolf, has a big fucking dick. Mickey doesn't have a werewolf fetish, he doesn't, but he might be obsessed with the redheaded Alpha.

 

 

  
Might be, maybe. Definitely feels more like a yes when he's face down, ass up on the edge of Ian's mattress. Behind him, Ian has his large palms spread across his lower back, just shy of the curve of his hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples on Mickeys lower back. Rolling his hips slowly, he's fucking Mickey so thoroughly, a steady, brutal drag of his cock. Every so often he will thrust in deep and hold himself there, will snap his hips, short and sharp until Mickeys crying out so loudly, eyes practically crossing at the relentless stimulation on his prostate.

 

 

 

"Are you going to come soon?" Ian asks, the fucker not even sounding remotely winded. Mickey is gasping into the sheets, damn near drooling as his mouth hangs open.

 

 

  
That's a thing about Ian, he has learned, he loves making Mickey come before him, way before. Ian loves fucking him when he's oversensitized, overstimulated, loves how loud Mickey will get, how he will squirm.

 

 

 

"Fuck," he swears, breathlessly, "fuck yeah I'm gonna come soon, fuck yes - yes."

 

 

 

"Oh," Ian comments, all fucking casual and pleased, "good."

 

 

 

"Good," Mickey repeats, sputtering and delirious, but anything he would ordinarily snark in reply gets lost in the filthy moan he can't swallow.

 

 

  
The backs of Mickeys knees are sweating, slick with effort of holding himself up for Ian like this. His thighs are burning, trembling.

 

 

 

"Ohh, ohhh," he whines pathetically at the stroke of Ian's thumb around the rim of his asshole and something liquid dark and sinful snakes down his spine. Could Ian - he couldn't possibly take more, there's no way, no fucking - "do it," he hears himself pleading, voice alien and pitched so high Mickey can feel his cheeks go hot.

 

 

  
In his throat, Ian growls, the sound not quite natural, "Mickey -"

 

 

  
His thumb is replaced with the tip of his index finger, Mickey can tell, and it presses just barely next to Ian's cock.

 

 

  
"I'm gonna come if you do it," Mickey whimpers, like a promise, and Ian doesn't need to be told again.

 

 

 

\- - - - -

 

 

"What," Mickey gasps, rolling into his back as Ian steps away from him finally, "what do you think about, when you do that?"

 

 

Ian's standing above him, covered in a light sheen of sweat, panting quietly. It's only at his end does he appear to have exerted any effort; when he's caged Mickey in with his arms, his whole fucking body while he reams Mickey's ass, growling and damn near barking against his back, the side of his neck while he licks and bites.

 

 

  
Mickey's own body aches pleasantly, and there's an obscene amount of come dripping steadily out of his asshole. It makes him feel filthy, a little slutty, but Ian always hums appreciatively, never takes his eyes away from his ass when he lays spread open like this.

 

 

  
"What?" Ian asks, like he didn't understand the question; he's not moving from looming over Mickey, not bothering to get dressed. It sounds more like a diversion tactic.

 

 

  
"When you," and Mickey looks away, a little flustered, gesturing lamely, "get all, fuckin, yaknow. Before you jizz, man. You get extra...beast like."

 

 

  
It's hands down one of the more awkward things he's ever said. Despite his knack for picking up guy's with magical backgrounds, he's never bothered to really ask them about it. Never had any real reason for knowing, it's not like they were ever going to be friends or some shit. Ian's kind of becoming a repeat offender, though, and it's hard not to notice all the characteristics of someone not quite human when you're banging them on the daily.

 

 

  
Narrowing his eyes, Ian peers down at him uncertainly - for as bad ass and scary as werewolves are supposed to be, often Ian just reminds him of some sort of dumb puppy.

 

 

  
"You really wanna know?"

 

 

  
Mickey rolls his eyes, snorting unpleasantly, "I fuckin' asked, didn't I?"

 

 

  
"Well," Ian starts, rubbing at his shoulder, "Breeding you."

 

 

  
"What the fuck," Mickey sits up quickly, startled, and loses his breath when he feels just how soaked the sheets are against his thighs. Ian twitches as the change in his breathing, and his eyes darken just slightly.

 

 

"Hey, you asked," Ian replies, shrugging, "it's not a big deal."

 

 

"Not a big deal?" Mickey echoes, on what fucking planet, "That's fucking weird, man, breeding me? Like I'm some sorta bitch?"

 

 

"Mate," Ian corrects, looking properly offended now, "and no, it's not a big deal. It's just instinct. Obviously, you can't get fucking pregnant, even if I were to turn you."

 

 

  
At the mention of being turned, Mickey maybe pales further, but that's a conversation for another time. Instead, he sputters indignantly, raising an eyebrow.

 

 

  
"Obviously," he sneers.

 

 

  
"I'm half wolf, we're pack animals," Ian continues, defending himself, "in the wild we procreate to survive. Not my fault somewhere along the line someone fucked that up by adding human DNA, or whatever."

 

 

  
Now Mickey feels bad. Just a little. He was the one who asked a stupid fucking question, and here he is responding ignorantly.

 

 

  
Ian's no longer looking at him, or the way Mickey's thighs and ass cheeks are sticky and covered; which Mickey is now realizing probably a part of the whole breeding thing too.

 

 

  
"Ay," he mutters quietly, refusing to look up at the redhead, but he bites his lip around a small grin, "that shit really get you going, ya freak?"

 

 

He's teasing, he hopes Ian can see that. He's trying.

 

 

  
"Um," Ian says dumbly, and Mickey swears he can hear him swallow, "I mean - other things do too, it's not just - I'm still - "

 

 

  
"You wanna knock me up, Firecrotch?" He interrupts, trying not to think about how stupid and weird he feels saying that.

 

 

  
Above him, Ian makes a sound he's never heard before - a pathetic, eager sort of whine. Like a dog begging. Exhaling roughly, Mickey's ass clenches, and he drops back onto his elbows, spreading his legs.

 

 

  
"Like knowing I'm all filled with your come," he breathes, low and hot, nearly choking on the words and his nervousness, "there's so goddamn much of it Ian, should feel how wet - "

 

 

  
In seconds, Ian's hovering over him again, breathing hard in a way Mickey's never seen him when they start fooling around. One hand is lingering by his ass, fingertips brushing along the backs of his thighs, the other hand flat beside his head, holding him up. Without warning, Ian shoves three fingers inside him, pressing deep while he wriggles his pinky in alongside his other fingers.

 

 

  
"Ahhh," Mickey moans, hips jerking, chest heaving at the stretch, "ahn, nn, that's -"

 

 

  
"Do you know what you're doing?" Ian barks, eyes glowing gold, "what you're doing to me, saying that shit?" Just as suddenly as he had put his fingers inside of Mickey, he takes them out, holding them up for Mickey to see.

 

 

  
"Jesus, Ian," he murmurs, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at how slick and wet the skin on his hand is, covered in fucking come. The grin on Ian's mouth can only be described as well, wolfish. He's making all sorts of sounds - low, excited, whimpering sounds and Mickey can't help but think of a dog scratching at a door.

 

 

  
"What?" He taunts, pushing up the back of Mickey's thighs, starting to settle in between them, "Can't handle it anymore? Too much for you?"

 

 

  
Narrowing his eyes, Mickey feels his mouth curl in a filthy smirk, tongue poking out between his teeth, "Nah man, just waiting on you - want you to fill me up again -"

 

 

  
Ian whines, low and deep, eyes dark while he lines his cock up again, "Yeah," he pants, nodding, "yeah, gonna come inside you, fucking gonna -"

 

 

  
"Shit," Mickey gasps as Ian drills into him, rough and sloppy, an easy pressure aided by how wet his asshole is, "fuck yes, fuck, c'mon give it to me."

 

 

  
"Such a slut," Ian grunts, a hand fisting in the dark strands of Mickey's hair, yanking his head back. The tight feeling along Mickey's esophagus makes it harder to breathe, but he loves it, loves how rough Ian can get. "What are you," he taunts, baring his teeth, "Say it, come on, let me hear it."

 

 

  
"I'm a slut, I'm a slut, I'm a slut," Mickey chants obediently, laughing breathlessly as Ian bites harshly at his neck and collarbones, licking at his shoulders, his clavicles.

 

 

  
"Yess," Ian hisses, sinking his teeth harshly over Mickey's jugular, making him choke, "yes, you are, you like it big, don't you?"

 

 

  
"Ohh nn, I love it," Mickey agrees helplessly, struggling to speak outside of his low, constant moaning. "I love it - so fucking big, you give it to me so fuckin' good, makin me fucking take it."

 

 

  
Ian growls loudly, like before, deep and masculine and something supernatural; he seems almost unaware as he wrestles Mickey over onto his hands and knees again, arranging him so that he's trapped beneath the hard press of Ian's body.

 

 

  
Somewhere in the back of Mickey's mind it clicks, this - this fast, brutal snap of Ian's pelvis against his ass, the tight grip his big hands have on Mickey's elbows while he fucks him relentlessly, this is what Ian meant by breeding. This is Ian breeding him. Fuck.

 

 

  
Mickey squirms and wriggles, the pressure and pleasure moving into something else, something unrecognizable.

 

 

  
"Tell me," he begs, his own voice sounding foreign and unfamiliar, "tell me what you want."

 

 

  
Behind him, Ian practically howls, laves lovingly and wetly at the back of his neck. One of the hands on his elbows replaces where his tongue just was, shoving Mickey's head down, cheek smashed against the bed, one arm bent and twisted a little awkwardly, uncomfortably while the other reaches back, trying to touch.

 

 

  
"Wanna come inside you," Ian repeats, low and hot, squeezing his hands, "wanna get you fucking pregnant, Mickey, please fuck, fucking let me, let me -"

 

 

  
Dazedly, Mickey realizes Ian's begging him, something he's never heard the other male do, and he's unable to stop the way he cries out at Ian's words, nodding furiously, "Do it," he says, whimpering steadily, "do it, Ian, yes, make me, fucking knock me up, _breed me_."

 

 

  
For the first time, Ian starts coming before him; he's shaking and swearing when it starts, hips stilling while he pushes his cock further into Mickey, if that were even possible.

 

 

  
"F-full," Mickey says dumbly, rubbing his cock in short, shallow thrusts against the mattress until his whole body jerks, orgasm rushing through him quickly, urgently, way faster then the way Ian's still emptying his come inside his ass.

 

 

  
"Oh shit," Ian chuckles, nosing along the back of Mickey's ear, licking playfully, "shit that was fucking. Thank you."

 

 

  
It feels weird, being thanked after sex, a little dirty - but. Mickey thinks he might know what Ian means, what he's trying to say.

 

 

  
Thank you for understanding, for being here. For listening.

 

 

  
It's a lot to take in, and Mickey still isn't sure he's ready. But he doesn't think about his father, or support groups, or anything else but Ian when the redhead pulls his head back, swift and sharp to kiss him brutally. And for once, Mickey kisses back earnestly, eagerly; hopes Ian can here his own gratefulness in the press of his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean it, I really do not know. BUT TWO FICS IN TWENTY FOUR HOURS, WHAAA. 
> 
>  
> 
> Maybe I really am possessed. Thanks for reading, and sharing love. Namaste~


End file.
